


Taking Measures

by Elphen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha John, Anal Fingering, Clubbing, Flirting, Jealous John, Knotting, M/M, Manipulative Sherlock, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sherlock, Omegaverse, PWP with plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive John, Scents & Smells, kinda pwp?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Sherlock sets eyes on John, he knows he has to have him as his mate. Getting them there might not be as easy as just asking the Alpha outright, however, and so the Omega sets out to make sure that John is in fact interested by making him jealous and possessive.<br/>Going off his suppressants in time with John's Rut might have been a slight miscalculation, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Measures

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a commission. It turned out not to be what the commissioner wanted, though, so I'm uploading it here to see if anyone else likes it. It is done a bit differently than what I normally do as a result, though.  
> I still hate writing summaries and titles.
> 
> No beta or britpicker

It was unacceptable. Completely and utterly unacceptable and it grated on his nerves immensely to the point where it was a constant, irremovable presence in the back of his mind.

  
He had tried to ignore the reason for it; by God, had he tried. From the moment they had met in the lab at Bart’s he had done his best to suppress the immense attraction he’d quite involuntarily experienced. 

As soon as he had deemed it worth his time to look up from his microscope and focus on the man that Stamford had brought here, he had known two things; one, the man was an Alpha and two, he was attractive as all hell. Perhaps not in the sense the fashion-industry would approve but his compact, lightly muscled form hidden beneath unassuming clothes spoke of strength and virility and his open yet guarded face spoke of character and hidden depths. The fact that his eyes were deeply blue, his skin, when they briefly touched, felt warm and soft and his scent was more than pleasant - in fact it was downright bloody intoxicating but that was besides the point - wasn’t exactly detracting.

It had left Sherlock’s throat dry and sent his heart beating faster though he had managed to succeed in not letting any of that show. Instead he had rattled off the other things he noticed about the man, trying to ignore the way his heart stuttered strongly when he was called brilliant for his deductions instead of being reviled for them.

In fact, it was only years of practice that had made him capable of seeming as aloof as he normally was and he had been certain he’d given nothing away when he’d finally said his name and the address he expected the man, John, to show up at.

The case that had followed had thankfully swept him up in its all-consuming rush, leaving him little time to ponder his immediate attraction to the Alpha, for which he had been thankful.

By the time they were giggling inappropriately after John had shot the cabbie, the attraction had made itself known again. Sherlock had found that even the giggling – and it was giggling; the surprisingly high noise could hardly be categorized as anything else – was sending small shivers down his spine. He had wanted to hoard that sound; make sure that when it came, it was because of him and no one else, which he knew was ridiculous and rather typical of his gender but couldn’t help.

Mycroft had spotted the attraction immediately, of course. He had given no outward indication of noticing, however, other than a pointedly raised eyebrow directed at his brother after a quick glance of assessment of the doctor. Sherlock had bristled at the perceived disapproval and fired off some choice remarks about his brother in retaliation. 

As a Beta, Mycroft may have an intellectual understanding of what it meant to be an Omega, or an Alpha for that matter, but he didn’t truly understand what it was like nor would he ever. Therefore, in Sherlock’s mind, he had no business passing judgement on any partner the Omega chose for himself, even if it was mostly an unconscious choice at that point.

John hadn’t said anything, about that or the fact that Sherlock was an Omega. He would have known, of course; as an Alpha, he was as capable of smelling the consulting detective’s gender as Sherlock was of smelling his. It was custom these days to try and dampen the natural smell with washes, creams and perfumes but no amount of artificial odour could truly disguise the natural scent of someone.

The thing was, as their acquaintance turned to friendship more quickly than Sherlock would ever have anticipated, that John didn’t treat him differently than anyone else. At least, he didn’t treat him like he was lesser than the other genders or act like he was superior.

Not that he was exactly unique in that respect, as plenty of people these days treated each other with more respect than traditional social structure dictated, but to an Omega who had had almost nothing all his life but belittlement from others who saw his intellect as wasted on and freakish in an Omega, it was welcome indeed. He may be John’s intellectual superior but John was his emotional superior and for everything else, they fought and bartered and worked out some sort of equilibrium. It was more than the younger Holmes could ever have wished for.

The problem was, however, that though Sherlock had managed to tamp down on the immediate infatuation with his flatmate that had him flushed and very interested in burying his nose in just about any part of John available, the interest hadn’t really waned in any way. Quite the opposite, in fact. As they came to know each other, the purely carnal attraction was bolstered and matched by a strong appreciation of the surprisingly complex web that made up John Hamish Watson.

He tried to tell himself that it was merely because John was the first Alpha he’d been attracted to on more than a basic biological level that, when he lay supine on the sofa or in his bed, images of that sturdy, compact form that had retained the muscle and strength from John’s time as a soldier would creep up on whatever he was attempting to think about and slowly usurp it until they filled his mind to capacity. The clarity of the mental images was helped by the glimpses of his flatmate he had caught when the man was getting in and out of the shower and the like.

The images invariably led to his cock taking a definite interest and his entrance becoming ever so slightly slick. His hand would then drift down to the hot flesh and stroke, softly and teasingly at first then with increasing firmness and speed as his mind conjured sensations of what that skin might feel like pressed against his own long limbs, his entire body as they moved together.

When the index finger on his free hand made its way down to breach his, by that point, rather slick hole it would most often be enough to set him off and he would stifle his groan as well as possible as he rode his release.

The frequency of these, for lack of a better term, fantasies astonished him as much as their appearance at all. He wanted very much to believe that they were just vestiges of the hormonal imbalance he’d never truly experienced as a teenager and that it was all still just transport to him. He knew they weren’t, though, and as time went on, he found that he minded less and less to the point that he welcomed them.

What he didn’t welcome was the fact that with John’s not only, to Sherlock at least, very handsome physique but his seemingly open and friendly demeanour, he was immediately interesting to other people as well, were they men or women, Beta or Omega. Worse, he seemed to reciprocate the interest that was coming his way; smiling back at them, flirting and, worst of all, going on dates.

He was on such date at the moment – some insipid Beta woman he’d met at work...though he’d thankfully not picked that Sarah woman. Deeply unsuitable and rather plain in Sherlock’s opinion but though he had tried, there had been no dissuading John from going through with it. Not with insults, flattery, threats of blowing up the building or even a really interesting, though nonexistent, case.

So the consulting detective had flung himself on his sofa as soon as the door had closed. He needed to think.

Clearly his initial infatuation with the Alpha hadn’t faded at all over the course of their acquaintance and friendship and his attempts to suppress it had proved fruitless. He could call it transport and beneath him all he liked but the fact of the matter was that he was falling for his flatmate.

A frown marred his forehead and he scoffed under his breath. Falling in love was nothing more than biological responses and chemical reactions in the brain and as such, patently useless.

Nevertheless he made a mental note to check whether he had the classical physiological signs of being in love when next John came home. In the meantime, though...if he had developed actual feelings for the doctor that weren’t going away, what should he do about it, if anything? Did he actually want a relationship? A relationship with an Alpha would mean sharing Heats and more than likely, eventually lead to a bond.

He had never wanted that. Alphas in general were more brawn than they were brain and relied on the status and power that their secondary gender afforded them. Omegas, meanwhile, were supposed to be compliant and emotional and they, too, tended to rely far too much on the benefits provided them by a society that saw them as something precious to be taken care of.

Perhaps it was down to his superior intellect or possibly it had its roots in his upbringing in a family that was exclusively Betas but whatever the reason, the rules of either secondary gender had never interested him in the slightest and as such, he had sought to rise above what nature and society dictated he should be.

That had led to using suppressants. Not the ones that could be procured from the chemist’s; those were, in his opinion, far too transgressing and dangerous, especially for prolonged use, and so he had worked on producing his own version that would not completely suppress the Heats but merely dampen them to a point that was manageable for him and made him seem less than fertile and therefore unattractive to Alphas.

He still had had to go through his Heat in the normal way while he worked on getting the concoction as precise and safe as he possibly could, locked away in his family home with an older brother who might not understand but would go to great lengths to keep his sibling safe. When he had finally concocted something he deemed good enough to use, he had thoroughly deleted the entire experience of Heats from his mind. Never would he let himself fall victim to an uncontrolled Heat or so he had thought.

The more he thought about it, however, the more he realized that he did very much want to share his Heats with John as he shared almost all his life with the man. The question then became whether John felt the same way about him and how he should go about letting him know that Sherlock was interested in pursuing a relationship.

He was still pondering this when the front door opened and John practically tumbled through the door, managing to jolt the Omega out of his thoughts. He gave the doctor a quick glance, trying to establish whether there were any signs it had been a...successful date then relaxed minutely when it didn’t appear so.

“I swear, Sherlock, you’re going to end up with bedsores one day,” John said by way of greeting as he shrugged out of his jacket and shoes. “Have you even moved in all this time?”

“Not a bed, John.”

“Not the point, you arse.” But John was smiling as he said it. Sherlock could tell by the undertone in the voice.  

The doctor moved further into the flat, his scent now close enough for the detective to smell again and he relaxed further. It wasn’t only that the Alpha’s smell was comforting and arousing in itself, although that of course didn’t detract, but that it did not have that intensified smell of musk and sweat that said he had had sex. Even better, there seemed to be – he took a deep breath to confirm it – very little trace of the Beta woman’s pathetic excuse for a scent anywhere on the man. Couldn’t have gone too well, then. Good.

“Hmm?”

“I said do you want tea? I’m putting the kettle on.”

“Mmh.”

“Good to see some things never change, then,” John muttered under his breath. He went into the kitchen and only returned when he held two mugs of what smelled like Queen Anne tea. The not exactly cheap tea only came out when the Alpha was either feeling rather good or really bad and with the earlier indications, it had to be the latter.

“Honestly, John, you ought to be more selective,” Sherlock said, swinging his lithe legs to the side so that he could sit up. At his flatmate’s frown, he sighed a tad dramatically and clarified. “With the women you pick up, not the tea. The tea is excellent.” He took a sip right away to underline his point.

“I’m not even going to bother asking you how you know or telling you to mind your own business.” But this is my business, John, Sherlock thought.  The doctor sat down heavily in his own chair and let out a sigh. “You never do. Yeah, wasn’t the best date I’ve ever had – being a shoulder to cry on isn’t that much of a turn-on, to be honest.”

“If you are going to bother with trying to find a mate, you should at least find someone with a bit of standard.”

“What, someone like you, you mean?” There ought to have been a laugh in his voice as he said that but though Sherlock listened for it, it wasn’t there. Interesting.

“At least I wouldn’t be boring,” Sherlock replied with an arched eyebrow, “unless, of course, you’re scared of Omegas and their Heats?”

John snorted. ”Like hell I am.” He didn’t elaborate further but there would be time to ask later.

“So it’s just the fact that you’re not gay, then?”

The Alpha did laugh at that. The tingle it sent through the younger Holmes’ body only confirmed his suspicions.

They settled into their normal quiet chatter, John’s mood getting slightly better as they did until he yawned and excused himself for the night, a somewhat odd look on his features. Sherlock settled back on the sofa, not at all tired himself. So...there was a possibility that John would not be adverse to something more. That could be...exploited.

 

* * *

  
“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John?”

“What are you playing at?” It was hard to tell whether the man was irritated, angry or both by the sound of his voice alone. A glance at his face revealed a minute tick under the left eye that suggested it was a mix of both.

Sherlock continued to move the food around his plate in his usual ‘innocent’ manner. “This food, mainly – they’ve used the wrong oil and –“

“That is not what I meant.” John’s scent had increased ever so slightly in response, though to what exactly was hard to tell.

“Then I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The doctor was about to answer but was interrupted by the reappearance of both the waiter and the refined, easygoing and charming, for lack of a better term, version of Sherlock that had annoyed John in the first place.

“Everything alright?” the young Alpha in front of them asked, flashing an attempt at a winning smile at them both, though mostly at Sherlock. The older Alpha didn’t fail to notice how the younger man’s eyes raked over the Omega’s fine features.

“Practically perfect,” Sherlock offered in response and there was almost a purr in his voice. “However, I do wonder if perhaps you’d be so very kind as to bring something else to drink? The wine is unfortunately a little...strong for me.” He laid a hand gently on the waiter’s arm and smiled in that way he had when he wanted to ingratiate himself to someone.

It certainly worked on the young Alpha who gulped slightly and nodded enthusiastically before almost running to fetch something that would be more to the customer’s taste.

“He could at least have remembered to ask what I’d have liked instead. He’ll probably bring cider or something equally horrendous,” Sherlock mumbled in his normal tone of voice.

“Okay, out with it.” Looking at John now, the tick had become considerably more noticeable while the face itself had turned remarkably, tellingly blank. “Are we on a case you failed to tell me about?”

“No.”

“Then why are you flirting with the waiter?”

The Omega carefully let his forehead wrinkle in honest incomprehension. “Was I?”

John stared at his friend, clearly disbelieving of the innocent behaviour but was once again interrupted by the arrival of the young waiter, holding, he noted, only glass of something sparkly.

“There you are,” the young man said, smiling in what he probably thought was a charming manner but more closely resembled a grimace. He clearly had a lot to learn about how one treated Omegas.

Sherlock, reverting to his charm offensive, didn’t let on but merely smiled back in a manner that could only be described as flirtatious. “Ah. Cava. What a splendid choice – and very well done on working out what I’d like all on your own. I am most impressed.” The hint of condescension was completely lost on its target who preened at the apparent praise.

Sherlock took the glass from the man, letting his fingers lightly brush the fingers of the other quite deliberately, making the younger Alpha blush and the older Alpha growl slightly under his breath, if Sherlock was any judge at all and he usually was. Inwardly, he couldn’t help smiling.

John ducked his head as if he wanted to pretend it wasn’t affecting him by ignoring what was going on.

  
The waiter made an aborted movement that indicated his reluctance to leave the table. The Omega made a gentle shooing movement, though, and after a moment’s further hesitation, the man left. That left Sherlock with an Alpha across the table who was studiously eating his food and ignoring his flatmate. He wasn’t fazed by this, though, as he could smell a slight souring in John’s scent; unnoticeable to the casual inhalation but beyond obvious to Sherlock who had made it his business to catalogue and know as many variations of his friend’s scent as he possibly could.

  
The scent was a rather strong indicator but what clinched it was the almost subsonic rumble emanating from John’s throat. If nothing else, it proved that the Alpha had a bit of a possessive streak and that he didn’t appreciate others flirting with Sherlock or the Omega showing interest in someone else if it wasn’t for a case, unconscious as the behaviour most likely was at that point.

  
All interesting data that could prove very useful indeed.

 

* * *

  
  
Sherlock was sitting hunched over his microscope, ostensibly analyzing the effects of different solutions to the cornea though his mind focused as much on the data gained from his flirtation experiment as the data right in front of him.

It had been a little over a week since that incident. He had not flirted with anyone else as visibly as he had with the waiter as that had mostly been an exercise in seeing whether

John would be affected by the flirting and how he would react. The fact that doing it too often or too overtly would alert the doctor to the possibility that there was something else going on and make him therefore suspicious was also a consideration.

John’s behaviour in the following days, which had been filled with a case of medium interest at best, had been almost as interesting to note as his reaction in the restaurant. It had been mostly subtle but there had been clear instances of standing a little closer than usual, keeping an even closer eye than usual on where the consulting detective was in relation to everyone else and even a touch or two.

The question then became what to do next. That was more of a tricky question and one that required further deliberation. It had to be subtle and varied enough so as not to arouse suspicion but at the same time clear enough that it wouldn’t be misunderstood as something else. With John the latter wouldn’t be too much of a problem, for even though Sherlock had a tendency to deride his intelligence, he was quite savvy when it came to matters like that.

It was mostly a question of laying the breadcrumbs slowly and carefully for the Alpha to pick up on all on his own, if at all possible. John did not appreciate being coerced or manipulated, the Omega had already learned throughout their friendship, much to his cost, and would dig his heels in just out of principle if he found out that he had been manipulated. Not to mention he’d go absolutely spare.

  
He knew that it wouldn’t be too long before it would be time for John’s Rut, which was a valuable piece of information.  
Abandoning the experiment for the moment when he managed to drop the slides he was going to examine next, Sherlock moved to sit in his chair, picking up his violin on the way. It would be more conducive to thinking on this problem.

Ruts didn’t happen as often as Heats, though they tended to sync up to coincide with one of the mate’s Heats if an Alpha was bonded; while Omegas had their Heats three to four times a year depending on the Omega and their health, an Alpha would usually only experience their Rut once every one or two years. There were even Alphas that went years without experiencing a Rut at all. 

The consulting detective had always envied them that, though he envied Betas even more, seeing as they got to live without having to worry about anything like Heats or Ruts, scents or bonding. Of course, the fact that they had none of that tended to be looked on by most Alphas and Omegas with pity as a biological deficiency but Sherlock truly felt that they were ones to have lucked out.

John had not had a Rut since they’d lived together and so, if Sherlock’s calculations were correct, he was due one in the next few weeks. Unless, of course, he was one of the Alphas that went without for years and that would put a bit of a spanner in the works for what the younger Holmes had planned.

Therefore he put down the violin for a moment to call up Mycroft in order to get access to John’s service records. His secondary gender specific records were required by law to be there as it was imperative for the Army to know whether they needed to administer anything to their soldiers or not. Getting Rut suppressants if you were not going to have one could severely damage the reproductive capabilities of an Alpha and since both the Army, the Navy and the RAF mostly had Alphas in their ranks, it was imperative in order to prevent a drastic fall in recruitment.

It took an annoyingly long argument that resulted in the detective having to concede to taking a case of Mycroft’s when he asked but eventually his brother caved. Not long after, an email detailing most of John’s records – there were clear omissions in there, which were more than a little interesting – arrived. Sherlock scanned the information, a smile growing every broader on his face as he read.

Perfect.

 

* * *

  
“Sherlock, this is a bad idea. A really bad idea.”

“It’s the only logical way,” the Omega replied. He tucked at the garment again, inwardly cursing as it only moved an inch. He might have the lithe limbs to pull it off but leather was really not the thing to wear in the midst of an Indian Summer heat wave.

“Logical, my arse!” John growled. He was standing in the doorway to Sherlock’s room, leaning his shoulder and hip against the doorjamb, and the consulting detective had to swallow as discreetly as possible at how that outlined not only the general, very pleasing shape of the Alpha’s body  but also the muscles hidden beneath worn denim and soft wool. “There are far easier ways to get the information than this.”

"But all of them would be far more time-consuming than we can afford.” With a final, harsh pull he managed to get the damned trousers all the way to his waist where he could button them. “This way, the chance of the man giving up the information willingly is far greater.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you have brown leather trousers stashed in your wardrobe,” the doctor said with a shake of his head, changing the subject. Sherlock did note, however, that John’s eyes more than once ran over his legs in said trousers in what could only be described as an appreciative gesture. Of course he tried to be discreet about it but failed miserably.

  
Sherlock didn’t bother answering, instead slipping a black leather belt through the hoops on the trousers even though the chance of them falling off was nonexistent, to be frank. The purple v-neck t-shirt he had chosen only just reached the top of the belt and was a size smaller than would have been comfortable but by the look on his flatmate’s face it wasn’t as though it went unappreciated either.

To complete the look he had tried to tame his curls with some gel but had only partially succeeded so that they still were visible at the back. He looked himself in the mirror.

“That should do for getting into the club without too much trouble.” He turned to his flatmate. “Right, shall we?”

“I’m not going into a club with you!” the Alpha burst out, sounding indignant and surprised. “I’ve got no clubbing gear for one thing!”

“True, but then that’s not your purpose tonight. I need you to be there in case he runs.” He didn’t really, as there was no reason why the guy he was after – and he really was after some information for the case they were working on – would suspect anything but there was always an outside risk and he needed John to be there for...other reasons.

John seemed to think it was a load of horseshit, muttering something like ‘the hell you do’ under his breath but went off to put his shoes and bomber jacket on nevertheless.  
Sherlock smiled to himself in the mirror. So far, the breadcrumbs worked brilliantly.

 

* * *

  
  
The man was taking his sweet time getting there but Sherlock wasn’t overly concerned. It gave him time to get a better idea of the layout of the club and who was there and of course, it gave him plenty of time to flirt with the clientele.

Not that he was all that interested in getting anything out of the flirting, of course. The only one he was interested in was sitting in a corner, a glass of something that purported to be beer in his hand and a dangerous expression on his face as he glared in the direction of where Sherlock was. The sense of danger he emanated only enhanced his attractiveness but unfortunately, it wasn’t only the consulting detective who thought that; at least a few Omegas and one Alpha had been attempting to flirt with the former soldier and he had made a token effort of flirting back.

Slightly annoyed and having gained the information he needed from someone else by talking about his original target, the younger Holmes had decided to up the ante by throwing himself into the crowd of dancers on the floor. It held little appeal to him but he was soon swallowed by the movement and grind of the people around him, moving his body in tandem to them and the music.

Of course he was bound to touch others but the amount of hands on him did surprise him. Mostly they were fleeting and centred on his hip or his butt but there was at least one who tried to cup a feel. At that point he was at the edge of the throng and the hand on his crotch didn’t move as its owner backed him up against a wall that was unoccupied. A strong, revolting smell of Alpha permeated his senses, even over the olfactory din of the assembled people who were almost exclusively Alphas and Omegas, and a nose brushed his cheek as a dark voice whispered in his ear.

“You smell so fucking good, Omega, you must be dripping,” the man said as he attempted to slide the fingers of his free hand down to feel Sherlock’s entrance. The tightness of the leather trousers proved a considerable hindrance, however, and before the Alpha had a chance to open the front of them he was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked rather forcefully. The would-be assailant turned around, growling at the perceived challenge.

“Back off, this one’s mine.”

John merely smiled; a slow and dangerous smile that sent shivers down the Omega’s spine and produced the budding erection and slickness the other Alpha had tried to induce but utterly failed to.

“I think you’ll find ‘this one’ only belongs to whoever he wants to belong to,” the doctor said in a tone that matched his smile. The other man snarled at that and lunged at John who ducked at the clumsily swung fist and moved to the side. This made the other Alpha temporarily lose his balance and he stumbled, giving John the opportunity to land a kick and send the man into the crowd who dispersed so that he landed hard on the ground.

“Right,” John mumbled as he straightened back up. He ignored the looks of the others in the club, both the admonishing and the admiring ones, turning instead towards his flatmate. “You – out now. We’re going home.”

“Who says I’m done?” Sherlock shot back, raising an eyebrow. He was still leaning against the wall.

“I do,” John growled darkly. He moved forward, grabbed hold of the Omega’s hand and pulled until Sherlock got the message and walked with him, easily matching the quick strides with his long legs.

Once they were outside, he tried to stop but the Alpha wasn’t having any of it. He managed to flag down a cab and push Sherlock into it surprisingly quickly, climbing in afterwards and almost barking the address at the cabbie.

Sherlock half-expected John to grope him there and then or kiss him or at least do something but apart from the almost vice-like grip he still had on the detective’s hand, he didn’t touch him. The entire trip from the club to Baker Street was spent in silence.

When they’d stopped in front of 221, John manoeuvred them both out of the car, threw some notes at the cabbie and dragged the Omega with him inside and up the stairs. Not that Sherlock was putting up much of an effort to resist; he only let John do that because the dominance he was displaying was rather sexy.

Only when they were both inside the flat did the Alpha let go of the hand. If Sherlock thought that was being he was about to be ravished or the like, he was sadly disappointed, though.

John stood quite a few feet from his flatmate, who himself was just inside the door, shoulders squared and hands on his hips, nostrils flaring and dark blue eyes almost swallowed by their irises but face otherwise aiming for carefully blank. His scent was an undercurrent in the air and it was tellingly strong, as if the clear bulge in the front of his jeans wasn’t enough of a giveaway.

“What the devil do you think you’re playing at?” the doctor demanded. At his hip, his fingers flexed slightly.

“I was getting information by blending in.”

“Oh, yes? So you can’t ‘blend in’ without rubbing up against every single body in the place? What the fuck happened to ‘transport’?”

“It _is_ transport – I was merely using my body in the pursuit of the information I needed and it succeeded.”

“Succeeded?!” John cried in utter disbelief. “You could have been raped there and then, smelling like you do, you bloody berk! What’s the bleeding idea of going into a club while you’re not on your suppressants?” He had moved closer and was glaring up at the taller man, the tick under his eye noticeable again.

Sherlock fought the urge to bend down, close the gap between them and kiss the living daylights out of the Alpha. “I have never bought suppressants, John.” That was true enough; he had used suppressants of a sort for most of his adult life, yes, but he had never bought any. “They’re unsafe.”

John’s eyes widened almost comically at that then they narrowed in clear warning. “I don’t ever, ever want to hear something that utterly imbecilic coming out of your mouth ever again,” he snarled and the Omega had to marvel at the sheer strength of his friend, both physically as the muscles in his arms flexed slightly and the hands clenched and mentally as he held his baser instincts in an iron grip. It was honestly hot as hell. “An unbonded Omega who isn’t on suppressants is – it’s a bloody wonder you haven’t yet been grabbed and forcibly knotted by someone.”

In truth, Sherlock knew he was normally in very little danger of that and that was not even factoring in his homemade suppressants. Even though he made no secret of his secondary gender, people learned of his attitude and acerbic tongue long before they got close enough to sense he was an Omega and therefore by the time they did figure it out, he had lost most of the appeal he might otherwise have held. Of course there was a risk of being thought attractive when he was acting such as tonight but it wasn’t as though he had ever been the archetypal Omega who had to be rescued. He had had to fight on his own for years and could by this point do it quite well, though of course not as well as the trained soldier that was his flatmate.

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course. John didn’t want a logical explanation, he just needed to rant and let out the biology-fuelled anger boiling inside him. Neither did he point out that the reason he probably smelled that strongly to John – he had obviously smelled good to the other Alpha as well but chucked that up to the man thinking with his nether regions in general and uttering what he thought was dirty talk – was that the former soldier’s Rut was approaching and his sense of smell was increasing accordingly in order to be able to sniff out a potential mate. Well, mainly that.

“I am perfectly capable of looking after myself,” was what he said in the end, putting his face right up to John’s in challenge, knowing that he’d be putting the scent-ridden area of his neck even closer, just to push a button or two.

It worked; the Alpha snarled as his pupils dilated further and his hands came up to grab hold of the consulting detective’s still leather clad hips. He pushed at them until he had the taller man up against the wall, pressing closer and letting his nose nestle into the hollow where neck met shoulder, inhaling deeply. Meanwhile one hand removed itself from its placement on the hip to roam up and down the lanky body pressed against the wall.

For a brief moment, Sherlock wondered whether he’d set the Rut off early, which he definitely wouldn’t have minded judging by the way he could feel damp start to accumulate in his trousers, but before he had a chance to gather his thoughts enough to push back or do much of anything, John was pulling back. The Omega had to suppress a whine at the loss of contact and he unconsciously leant forward to try and get some back.

John backed away further, a wild look in his eyes that seemed to hold lust, anger and something else that was harder to identify in equal measures.

“Don’t test me,” he said in a voice that had a surprising undertone of pleading in it. “ _Don’t_. Not like this. Not...” He didn’t finish the sentence but turned and headed up the stairs to his bedroom instead, taking the steps two at a time.

Sherlock watched him go but stayed leaning against the wall as he wasn’t entirely certain that his legs would support him just yet. His breath was coming a bit more heavily than he’d have thought and the dampness had increased into a trickle. It was going to be even more of a hell peeling them off than he would have been to begin with.

Nevertheless, he felt like the evening had been quite the success; it had given him even more proof that he was on the right trail with regards to John’s interest and on top of that, another breadcrumb had been set down and picked up.

  
Now it was just a matter of setting up the final pins.

 

* * *

 

  
“Is it hot in here?”

“In a badly isolated flat in London in the middle of one of the worst downpours in recent memory? I somehow sincerely doubt that.” Sherlock didn’t bother opening his eyes, never mind turning over on the sofa to face his flatmate. He knew why John was asking that question but didn’t exactly feel inclined to point it out, seeing as that would run contrary to his goals.

It was very likely that John was unaware that his Rut was about to happen. After all, it was clear from the service records that he had been on military-issued Rut suppressants since he joined and before that, it wasn’t inconceivable that he had either tried the low-grade versions you could buy over the counter or that he hadn’t experienced a full, proper Rut while he’d been in medical school.

Besides, even if he had, with the...help the Omega had administered, it would be a rather special Rut.

The Alpha wasn’t the only one who didn’t really feel the chill of the room as he should; Sherlock had taken himself off his home-concocted suppressants far enough in advance that his hormones could start kicking in as they ought to instead of the strongly muted versions he normally experienced. If he had timed it right, he would be enter his Heat roughly at the same time that John’s slightly enhanced Rut.

The evening passed fairly normal for the two of them, though John excused himself and went to bed rather earlier than he usually did. Sherlock followed his example, feeling inexplicably tired himself, but didn’t change into his normal sleepwear. Everything felt hot and too scratchy to wear and so he opted for sleeping in the nude despite the chill still emanating from everywhere.

 

* * *

  
  
When he woke, he felt no cooler than he had been before he fell asleep. In fact, his skin only felt hotter and slightly clammy as if he was running a fever. The clamminess turned to distinct dampness between his thighs and, ignoring the erection straining for attention, he reached back slowly with one hand to find his hole a whole lot softer than it usually was, even when he was fantasizing, and trickling liquid. His Heat had indeed arrived.

He wondered for a brief moment whether he should just stay in his bed and wait for John to be overwhelmed enough by the smells from his room to come crashing in but then he remembered exactly who his friend and hopefully soon-to-be-lover was. The Alpha was a noble man, despite the world he lived in, and would not stoop to just come barging in to claim a person, even when in the beginning stages of Rut. At least he wouldn’t without a bit of prompting.

So reluctantly he found his blue robe and shrugged it on. Even the silk didn’t feel particularly comfortable and so he didn’t even think about putting on other clothes. With any luck, they would only be a hindrance.

He went into the living room, expecting to find his flatmate there. It was empty and so was the kitchen. Surely John hadn’t gone out in his condition? The amount of scent in the flat had slowly increased in the previous days and was now at a point where it was as good as impossible to distinguish the finer smells. Instead he looked elsewhere for confirmation and relaxed; the bomber jacket was still hanging on its hook and the shoes were placed neatly beside it.

A confirmation that the Alpha was still at home came with the thundering of steps on the staircase leading up to John’s room followed by the man himself almost barging into the living room before coming to a stop in front of the Omega.

Sherlock couldn’t help staring at the sight before him; John was dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, which were his usual sleepwear attire, but the shirt was rumpled to the point it had ridden up considerably and the boxers had a definite tent in them. The muscles in his thighs and arms were quivering faintly as if in restraint, there was a fine sheen to his skin as if he’d been sweating and the chest heaved slightly as he drew in ragged breaths. Meanwhile, his hair stood up every which way, the morning light bringing out the brown in it, his eyes were almost completed black due to the heavily dilated pupils and the scent off him positively wafted.

“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice gone just a smidgeon deeper than his normal low tenor. It, along with everything else, went straight to Sherlock’s nether regions and he felt his cock give a twitch beneath his robe and a trickle of liquid escape his entrance. It was all he could do to keep standing where he was.

“Who said I did anything?” How he managed to sound so calm and collected at a time like this, he had no idea.

“Don’t give me that _bull_.” The effort it took to stand still was causing his voice to sound strained. “You’ve fiddled somehow, I know it. Do you think I am that stupid I can’t tell? I have experience Ruts before and none of them have – oh, fuck, why do you have to smell that bloody good?” He obviously did his best not to inhale any more than he had to but try as he might, he did not quite manage it. His nostrils flared. “That’s another thing, your...damn, it’s bloody intoxicating...your Heat just happens to line up with...haah...my Rut?”

Sherlock, however, didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t want to or was attempting to evade the question but because his Heat was coming on rather more strongly, not to mention faster, than he had anticipated and as a result, his mental capacities were rapidly dwindling in favour of a growing need. It originated in his groin and his hole from where it was slowly spreading across the rest of his body, burning and consuming as it went.

He made a noise at the back of his throat, quite without meaning to. It was a sound of confusion, arousal and need if such things could be quantified in sounds.  
 

He had deleted his previous experiences with unsuppressed Heats, something which he hadn’t deigned to give much thought in the planning of this but now he was remembering. Not what he had deleted, which would have rendered the whole idea as good as pointless, but why he had deleted it in the first place. To make matters worse, those Heats had been back in his teens where his hormones may have run rampant but was still fairly underdeveloped. This time around there was over twenty years worth of suppressing the hormones, even if it had been done far more gently than over the counter drugs would have accomplished, and what was more, he was in the presence of an Alpha in the beginning stages of his Rut.

“Oh, gods,” he mumbled weakly as he inhaled another dose of Alpha pheromones. That, combined with the dawning realisation of exactly what his situation entailed, made his knees wobble and he probably would have fallen had it not been for John who reacted swiftly enough that he managed to catch him by the shoulder and waist, steadying him.

That only made it worse. Though he was obviously saved from crashing to the floor, he was also now in very close proximity to John and his heavenly scent which only served to further dwindle his rational mind. His nose sought the source and buried itself in the hollow of the Alpha’s throat, not even caring that there was a piece of cloth separating him from direct skin contact.

From that close, he could feel the sound of John growling as much as he could hear it. Still, the doctor managed somehow to cling to some semblance of rationale, it seemed.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his gentle tone greatly at odds with how tightly his hands were holding on to the Omega.

“Not like...I have much choice...in the matter at this point,” Sherlock panted, forcing himself to pull back a little so he could look the other in the eye. John glared at him for that. “Yes...I want this. Wanted...oh, god, it’s burning...nnnh...wanted this ever since...you smell so very good...ever since we met.” He looked at the Alpha, a look of pleading in the pale eyes. “Please, John. Please?”

Sherlock pressed himself against his flatmate again, pressing his nose into the clavicle bone as his hand clung to broad shoulders and he hooked a leg over the back of a thigh, operating solely on the need to be close. How he managed that with his body so unsteady he had no idea.

He had wanted to seduce John; to be the one in control and take care of the Alpha while he went through his...enhanced Rut, to be on top of his desires and channel themthrough a Heat that would hopefully lead to a bonding.

Instead he found that control ebbing and eroding as the burning tide of the emptiness inside him crashed in on him in waves over and over, each time a little stronger, a little farther reaching. It was unsettling, degrading and yet it hardly seemed to matter much anymore. There were other priorities.

His control was not the only one that seemed to be slipping; another deep-throated growl escaped from the Alpha when Sherlock swung his lithe leg up and the calloused hands moved from their previous positions down to grab hold of both supple thighs, pulling them up so that they went around his waist. This forced the Omega to swing his arms around the neck of the doctor, grabbing on so that he wouldn’t fall. Not that he particularly minded this new position or that his Alpha was capable of such strength.

“You’re mine now,” John rumbled as he moved his hands for a better hold and kneaded Sherlock’s silk-covered buttocks momentarily as he grabbed hold, causing the taller man to moan and press into the touch as best he was able to. “Mine to mark, claim and fill until there exists nothing in your mind but the pleasure you’ll experience.”

“If you’re going to do it then...bloody well do it instead of just talking about it,” Sherlock said but the bite of the comment was lost with the breathiness of his voice. His position brought his aching entrance close enough to John’s straining erection that he could just feel it brush his bum and he ached to grind down. At the same time he wanted to push forward as his own cock was lightly touching the other’s abdominal muscles and the precum was making a wet spot on the shirt. “Why is it coming on so strongly?” he asked weakly, letting his head fall forward in defeat.

John forewent answering, choosing instead to hike his Omega a little higher on his waist so that he could walk them through the open door of Sherlock’s bedroom without too much trouble. It wasn’t without difficulty, of course, but he persevered despite the enormous urge just to thrust into the willing body there and then and managed to get them into the room and to the bed where he deposited Sherlock as gently as he could.

The detective writhed on top of the sheets in an attempt to get the robe off but first one wrist then the other was gripped and they were forced above his head and pinned. He looked up into John’s eyes and gulped. Along with the lust and what might be termed adoration, there was that spark of something darker that he had also seen at the club. It made him gulp but also sent another flush of heat rocketing through his body.

“No, Sherlock. You don’t get to be in charge right now. You set this in motion and now you’re going to live with the consequences.” John let go slowly and Sherlock obediently let his arms stay where they were.

John let his eyes rake over the body stretched out before him, only marginally obscured by the blue silk. Then he did it again – and again, each time going slower than the time before, taking in every detail. For once, it was consulting detective who was under intense scrutiny.

In other circumstances, Sherlock might have enjoyed the appreciative glances. He might even have preened and tried to arrange himself to the best advantage. As it was, not only was he trying to be obedient but the burn of the Heat made him unable to focus on much else but the unpleasantly empty feeling in his backside and the need for something, anything, to relieve it. He even had an Alpha who smelled absolutely divine, who was brave and kind, a reputedly wonderful lover who had promised to take care of him and yet he was standing there, not three feet away from him and he wasn’t moving at all.

Part of him wanted to beg and whine, wanted do anything that would make his partner at least touch him but another part of him, the last vestiges of his normal, rational mind that was still functioning wouldn’t let him, at least not so soon, and was tamping down on the urge. It didn’t quite manage to stop the pants and the moans, though it tried to keep it muffled.

He wasn’t forced to wait too long, though, as John seemed to have a surge of his Rut himself judging by the way the musk in his scent spiked and the fumbling haste with which he stripped his t-shirt and his boxers. As soon as he was naked, the Alpha crawled up onto the bed and positioned himself between the lithe, pale legs. Then he bent forward, letting his hands ghost their way up the slender torso while his mouth claimed those plush lips in a kiss that was as much about dominance and possession as it was about lust. 

The Omega moaned loudly at the combined sensory assault and opened his mouth willingly when John’s tongue started probing for entrance. Their tongues intertwined and fought but for once it was Sherlock that was bendable and submissive while the doctor held the dominance. Meanwhile his hands continued their mostly gentle roaming, a counterpoint to the rough way he was plundering the mouth offered to him. The muscles under his fingers twitched and trembled at his touch and he felt Sherlock attempting to buck into the sensations. He pressed lightly but firmly on the hips to get the message across and after another aborted thrust, they stilled.

John broke the kiss and growled appreciatively at the look in his Omega’s half-lidded eyes as well as the lips parted in a soft ‘o’ and the dark curls clinging to his forehead. “So gorgeous, Sherlock, so absolutely, fucking gorgeous. If you knew how long...but now you’re mine, aren’t you? Do you want to be mine?” He followed up his question by moving down to mouth along the detective’s jaw line and down his neck, nipping occasionally as he went.

It took a moment for the words to register. “Yes, John, yes, please,” Sherlock moaned when they finally did, tilting his head to give better access to his neck. “Oh, god, yes, I want to be yours. I want you to fill me, please, fill me to the brim. It hurts, John, it hurts tremendously, please make it stop.” He involuntarily bucked his hips again.

This time, though, John took pity on him and moved one hand down to grasp the Omega’s straining cock which earned him a strangled gasp and another buck of the hips. The Alpha smiled predatorily against soft skin and dragged his hand slowly upward from the base, his thumb following the vein on the underside as he went, brushing it across the head when he reached it. That produced a drawn-out moan and a full body shudder.

“So very sensitive, so responsive,” John murmured. “Such a good little Omega.” He shifted slightly so that his other hand could move down to lightly touch the leaking orifice before he slowly pushed a finger in, barely meeting any resistance in the entrance softened by slick and Heat as he went. Once inside, though, the internal muscles gripped the digit, squeezing for a moment before relaxing then squeezing again. It made the Alpha groan and the Omega keen.

“Joooohn...” Sherlock moaned when the second digit found its way inside him, pushing back against the welcome intrusion. He thought he’d been prepared but no amount of masturbation or fingering on your own could compare to the short, calloused fingers pushing deep inside him, relieving the aching, burning emptiness just a tiny amount. It wasn’t enough, of course, but for what it was it was quite an experience.

The hand on his cock started stroking again and the combined sensations of stimulation banished the last vestiges of rational thought in the tidal wave of Heat. A large gush of lubricant escaped him, coating the doctor’s fingers and hand as it went, making the man groan and push in another finger.

“You are actually leaking,” John marvelled. He slowly started scissoring and pushing his fingers in and out in time with the stroking of the detective’s dick and grinned as he saw the effect it had on him. “Positively dripping. Do you want my cock that badly? Want it to fill you up and stretch you so beautifully, pushing into you as it soothes that burning need?” Sherlock mewled in response which turned into a cry as John first hit something inside him that concentrated the pleasure into one spot for a moment and sent his vision white before then withdrawing his hands completely. In fact, the former soldier sat back on his knees to the point that he was barely touching the slender body.

That earned John a glare from the Omega though the effect was rather spoiled by the panting and the trembling limbs. “Yes, John, I want that – all of that –so stop bloody teasing me and get _on_ with it!”

The Alpha had been unexpectedly gentle for a man in Rut but the slight defiance was met with a short snarl and a yank of those long legs. “I’ll get on with it when I want to and not a moment earlier. You are not in a position to make any demands, are you?” A smile crept up on his features that once more held that edge of something darker. “After all, I could go out and find someone else who’d help me through my Rut easily and, more importantly, safely. You, on the other hand, with the way you smell right now and your inexperience with Heats, you’ll be jumped on the moment you go outside.”

A gasp escaped the plush lips and it was a gasp of shock, indignation and desperation. “You _wouldn’t_!” Sherlock’s face held the same emotions his voice and gasp did but his eyes betrayed the pleading.

John’s expression softened considerably and he leant forward on one hand, the one he’d had inside the Omega, while his free hand moved to gently cup one bony cheek that was stained with colour.

“Of course I wouldn’t, you idiot,” he said softly. The tinge of something dark and feral had abated in his eyes and it seemed as if it was again John speaking, not the Alpha. “It’s just Alpha instinct and dominance. It’s hard to ignore right now but I’d never hurt you. You trust me on that, right?”

Sherlock nodded minutely, eyes still wide. This...this was the reason he’d fallen for his doctor in the first place. The surge of instant attraction he’d felt when they’d met had been just that, attraction. Attracted to surface elements and an incredible scent but this was the person underneath that went beyond those. It dimmed the mindless need, if only just for a moment.

“John,” he breathed. He leant into the hand on his cheek, trying to communicate what he couldn’t verbally articulate. They stayed like that for a moment, two, before Sherlock’s body made the emptiness inside it known again and rather aggressively at that. It was in the middle of a biological imperative and it would not be denied its relief.

The Omega whined gently at the renewed, not entirely pleasant sensations flushed his body once more and instinct took over entirely. He needed to be filled, to be knotted, and if the Alpha was hesitating, he had to show him that he was ready. He scrambled to pull his legs up so that he could turn over onto his hands and knees, lifting his arse up in invitation.

This brought his leaking entrance into close proximity with John’s nose and he got a fresh bout of pheromones and musk. He growled again and leaned in to get a taste, licking a broad stripe from Sherlock’s perineum to just above his hole, pushing his tongue slightly in. The detective moaned deeply and pushed back.

The Alpha withdrew then rose on his knees to a better position, took himself in hand and slowly guided the tip of his cock into the orifice. “Oh, Christ, you feel good,” he groaned as he pushed, “you’re gripping me so tightly, fuck!”

“Need...need more,” Sherlock begged. It felt like he was just on the edge of something; that it was just barely out of reach and it was maddening. He rocked backwards hard, pulling more of that thick girth into him and moaned as he was filled. “Please. I need all of it. Need it so bad.” He pushed with more force.

When John was finally fully seated, his pelvis pressing against that luscious arse, the first indications of the knot already tangible, he took a moment to admire the view. The long stretch of smooth, creamy skin that was the detective’s back, the narrow and trembling shoulders, the dark curls hanging damply with sweat, that long neck that just begged to be marked and the bony hands that was gripping the sheets so tightly.

Sherlock wasn’t the only one who felt the biological imperative, however. The Alpha withdrew agonizingly slowly, enjoying the whine that produced as he went, only to plunge in much faster and with greater strength. The Omega gasped loudly then moaned almost obscenely.

He pulled out again as slowly as the first time then pushed forward in one long, smooth stroke. “Fuck, Sherlock, you’re so tight,” he panted as he set up a rhythm. “Still so wet for me, though. You must want to be filled very badly. Filled with my cock, stretched with my knot as I pump you full of seed, as I breed you and flood your womb until you have no choice but to conceive, would you like that?”

Normally Sherlock would have scoffed at such dialogue but submerged as he was in the tidal wave of pleasure that just kept growing as it crashed over him, feeling the emptiness give way to a delicious feeling of fullness, he could do nothing but moan at the images it created in his mind. 

Nothing had felt like this, not even his cocaine-powered highs. Nothing could compare to this exquisite and overwhelming feeling of being claimed; the feel of that hot, velvety smooth cock sliding deep inside him, the way his internal muscles gripped and squeezed, the extra stretch of the slowly forming knot, the hands on his waist, dragging him backwards with each thrust forward of the Alpha’s hips. The sensations from all of that fused together into a mind-numbing ecstasy.

It was only when John sped up that Sherlock realized he had been begging his partner to go faster, to go deeper. The doctor forced the detective’s legs further apart which changed the angle of his thrusts and managed to hit the sweet spot inside the Omega dead-on. Sherlock mewled and fell onto his elbows.

“John,” he panted. “John, _please_. Fuck me deeper, harder, anything, just more. Please, I’m so close. I need you to knot me. Fuck, I need your seed in me, filling me so much I can taste it. Please touch me.” His breath turned into another strangled gasp as broad, strong fingers closed around his aching member again, stroking in time with the thrusts.

It was perfect. It was almost enough.

He turned his head as best he could, searching for eye contact and when he got it, he smiled. “Mark me, John. Mark me and make me yours completely.” He squeezed his internal muscles. “ _Breed me_!”

It had the desired effect; the Alpha gave a deep, guttural groan, snaked his free arm firmly around the other’s waist so that he could pull the Omega up so that he was straddling his lap, lithe legs splayed over strong thighs, sweat-soaked, pale back against the equally soaked tanned front and the Alpha’s mouth pressed against the back of the Omega’s neck.

The change in angle not only pushed the cock inside Sherlock deeper but also forced the knot all the way inside. It made them both groan and soon John was pounding into his Omega, his grip on bony hips hard enough that he would likely leave bruises. The knot continued to grow as they moved, Sherlock stroking his own erection all the while, and when it had inflated fully, the Alpha thrust hard one last time, wedging himself in as he came, filling the other up as he’d promised. The noise he made was muffled by the flesh in his mouth as he had bitten down on the detective’s shoulder the moment he started ejaculating, his canines breaking skin while his incisors kept hold of the flesh.

The absolute sensory overload that was being filled, having the by that point incandescent warmth in his body quenched by the sperm shooting inside and the feel of the bond forming as teeth broke skin sent Sherlock over the edge as well, the only sound he was able to make was a high-pitched gasp. Everything else concentrated on the rightness of the experience, the pure ecstasy of it. He spurted onto the sheets while his internal muscles squeezed, milking John for everything he could give.  
When they had both finished after what seemed like an eternity, John gently manoeuvred them onto the bed on their sides, careful not to lie in the wet spot. Sherlock moaned weakly and tried to press himself even closer to his mate.

“Rest, Sherlock,” John mumbled sleepily. His arms came round to circle the other’s waist in a possessive gesture while he licked softly and carefully at the wound, sealing the bond. The Omega, already exhausted, went boneless at the attentions to his sensitive neck and was soon in the arms of Morpheus. John smiled and followed suit not long afterwards.

 

* * *

 

“I wasn’t entirely ignorant, you know.”

They were still lying in bed but after several more rounds of sex Sherlock’s bed had hardly been fit for occupying so they had, after some trouble and some discussion, moved up the stairs into John’s bedroom.

“Hmm?” Whether the detective was still sleepy or was merely feigning ignorance wasn’t at all clear but it didn’t much matter.

“Of the fact that you were up to something – you aren’t exactly the type to flirt without reason, never mind the whole stunt with the club. I knew you were trying to rile me but I couldn’t quite figure out why.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Sherlock replied with a small smirk. He was already lying on his side close to his mate but endeavoured to move even closer in a motion that would, had it been anyone else, have been called cuddling. The doctor smiled from his position on his back and continued to idly play with the dark curls.

“And yet you still mated with me. You even took yourself off suppressants in time for my Rut – how did you even know that it was about to...” John trailed off as a thought occurred. “You know, I think I can guess that one. You must have known there was a considerable risk of me biting you, though. I wouldn’t have thought Mycroft would approve.”

“Stuff Mycroft.” Sherlock lifted his head from where it had lain on John’s chest to look the other in the eye. “You’ve always been a horrendously noble person, John. You have experienced both Ruts and Heats and yet you’ve remained unbonded. In any normal Rut, even in combination with a Heat, you’d be capable of holding yourself back.” He smiled again, a slow, knowing half-smile.

“So...that’s why you meddled,” John said slowly as realisation dawned. “I wouldn’t have thought you interested in anything as pedestrian and boring as a bond or mate.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You were never boring, never could be.” Sherlock could see the Alpha swallow, the admission received with the significance it had been sent.

“You said you’d wanted this from the start. Did you mean all of it?”

It surprised the Omega that his mate had actually remembered that but then he probably shouldn’t be.

 “Pretty much,” he admitted, not bashful in the slightest. “To be honest, when we met it was only surface attraction. I figured that it would pass with time but instead you continued to be fascinating and different from most Alphas that,” he gave a shrug with one shoulder, “well, how could I not fall for you? You must be used to having that happen.”

  
“Not as often as you might think,” John muttered under his breath. “I’m glad it ended up like it did but did you have to go through all of that manipulation horse hockey in order to do it? Why not just ask me?”

  
“Would you have believed that I wasn’t pulling one over on you if I’d just asked? Honestly?”

  
“No, probably not.” John was smiling. “You’re not exactly known for doing sentiment – or anything else that doesn’t benefit you, for that matter.”

  
“I wouldn’t say this doesn’t benefit me, though. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Sherlock gave another smile but this time, there was no guile, no trickery and no smugness to it. Of course he was quite adept at concealing those things if he wanted to but John had to trust it wasn’t the case. He had to.

  
“Really, though?” Apparently it didn’t stop him asking.

  
“Don’t try to be dull now, John. It’s rather tedious. Yes, really. I honestly want this, all of this, despite all the reservations I held. I don’t believe in biological imperative or being what society expects of me. I chose you for you. I just...helped the discovery of your own feelings along a bit.”

  
He half-expected John to get mad for having been manipulated like that; the doctor had gone just the tiniest bit spare on the occasions he’d managed to work it out and right now did not seem a good time for him to get angry.

  
But John, wonderful, dangerous, unpredictable John, only looked at him blankly for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t the high-pitched giggle but it was the full-throated equivalent. John’s laughing had always sent pleasant shivers down Sherlock’s spine and now was no different.

  
When the laughter petered out, John bent his head so that he could plant a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips. It was short and rather chaste but the Omega savoured it nevertheless.  
You know, there’s something strangely comforting in that. You would do it like that so it’s hard to say it’s not your own choice.” He planted another kiss. “Thank you.”

  
Sherlock felt decidedly smug and satisfied. He laid his head back down on his mate’s chest, for once content just to bask in the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing as regards the sex scenes. I am not a pro in writing them so be gentle with me on that.  
> Other than that, I don't have too much to say. AlphaJohn might not come as easily to me as AlphaSherlock but I do hope it's been alright, all things considered.
> 
> Feedback is dearly loved and treasured and so is the criticism if it's constructive.


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